Someday
by Isha-libran
Summary: Before saying 'I love you', one must first learn to say 'I'.


Title: Someday

Ship: Roy/Riza

Rating:G

Word count:1,458

Timeline: Post series, pre movie.

Before saying 'I love you', one must first learn to say 'I'.

A/N: Short and angsty. Consider yourselves warned.

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Roy Mustang sighed as he looked out over fields of white.

It had been his first time seeing so much snow, but the sight had quickly lost its allure.

That, he supposed, was only natural. One could enjoy such beauties of nature only when one was at peace.

And he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Ironic, that he had run away and come all the way here, as far from his old life as possible, and he _still_ had not found the peace of mind he so desperately craved.

Even at this, he was an absolute and unmitigated failure.

He plodded slowly through the snow, struggling to keep his footing. It had been six months since he had left, unable to bear looking at Breda and Falman, and Havoc and Fuery…and _her_.

He had failed them all.

They had put their trust in him, sacrificed their all for him—and he couldn't even fulfill the dream they'd shared.

They had all done everything they could so that _he_ would one day become Fuhrer…and it had all been for nothing.

Hughes had made the ultimate sacrifice. But in the end, he had died for _nothing_…

He stopped, and swore softly under his breath. After a moment, when it felt like he had gotten the bitterness and the self loathing under some semblance of control, he tramped on.

Riza, too, had sacrificed much for him.

It felt strange to think of her as _Riza_, now. For so long, he had tried to distance himself from her, deny what he knew was between them—deferring it for later, later, always _later_…

He had even started to _think_ of her as 'the Lieutenant' in an effort to maintain the professionalism.

It hadn't worked.

It was always there between them, in the way they understood each other so perfectly, the way her eyes would light up just the tiniest bit whenever he entered the room…the way she was the only person who he ever actually confided in…the way she always protected him …

He knew Riza must have had plenty of opportunities for promotion. She was smart, she could have worked her way through the ranks until she'd even become Colonel, like him.

In his darker moments, he'd wanted her to leave him, and take up those opportunities. If she weren't under his direct command, if she were a high ranking officer, maybe the anti-fraternisation rules could be made to _bend_ a little…

But come morning, he was always grateful that she chose to stick around and save him from himself.

And so they'd both waited, biding their time until he could become Fuhrer, and achieve the ambitions that had suddenly gone from being _his_ to being _theirs_.

Only for him to fail.

He had killed Pride and freed the military from the rule of a madman, but he had not managed to achieve his goal. The goal his little team had sweated blood for, the goal that was as much theirs by dint of their sacrifice, as it was his for dreaming it up.

In the ensuing chaos, he had found that he had lost himself.

Somewhere in the middle of losing his dream, he had lost the Roy Mustang who had dreamt it.

And so here he was, hundreds of miles away, staring at a sea of white, trying to leave the memories behind.

Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he could find himself again.

A new life.

Funny thing, though. The only thing he could really think about was what he'd left behind…he could only think about _her_.

Was she thinking about him, too?

'Someday,' he whispered into the night air, his solemn tone making it a promise to her. 'Someday.'

------

She suppressed a sigh as she surveyed the paper work before her.

Riza Hawkeye took the luxury of a moment of procrastination before squaring her shoulders and reaching for the topmost file.

'Lieutenant Hawkeye?'

She looked up, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

Fuery looked back at her warily, obviously nervous at interrupting her. He handed her an envelope, which she proceeded to slit open, scanning the document inside. Fuery scuttled back to his desk silently. The whole office was silent, with only occasional chatter among the men.

They were less apt to slack off, now.

Things had changed since Ro—Colonel Mustang had left, with the remaining members of their team drawing tighter around themselves. But it was not the same. Their little group had become lop sided, somehow, without someone to hold them all together.

They were like planets left adrift in a solar system, lacking a sun to orbit around.

It had come as a shock to her when he left; she had naively assumed he was getting better. But whatever she had seen burning in his eyes—_eye_, she thinks suddenly, consumed with a wave of guilt, _eye_—all those days had finally come to the boiling point six months ago.

And so he had left.

He had come to her apartment the night before, knocking at her door only once.

'I have to leave, Riza,' he had said.

The shock of hearing her first name from his lips was only secondary to the jolt his statement caused.

'Leave?' she had echoed dumbly.

He had nodded jerkily once before speaking.

'I'm sorry, Riza, but I have to leave,' he'd repeated. 'I can't stay here.'

'Why not?' she'd asked, more bewildered than she'd ever felt. They'd won, and she'd dared to hope everything was going to be fine…why was he leaving _now_?

'I used to be the Flame Alchemist, next in line to be Fuhrer,' he'd said hollowly. 'Leader of an underground movement planning to stage a coup.'

He had paused.

'Now, the Fuhrer is dead and the Parliament is in charge.'

'I tried pretending everything was alright for a while, but…I don't know who I am anymore.'

She'd nodded, then. She'd finally understood what he was trying to tell her.

'Have you told the others yet?' she'd asked, voice tight.

He'd shaken his head.

They had stood looking at each other for a long while, each of them unwilling to be the first to bid the other farewell.

Finally, he'd reached forward, running a gentle thumb over her cheekbone. He hadn't been wearing gloves; it was his bare skin that had brushed against hers. She'd closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears.

'I'll see you soon,' he'd whispered.

He'd waited for her nod. When she opened her eyes again, she had been alone.

It had been a struggle, for a while, to come to the office everyday, and not expect him to show up in his black rain slicker, with that familiar devil-may-care grin, and another excuse for his tardiness that neither of them really believed…

It had taken her a longer time to break the habit of looking up from her work to glance at the desk by the window. He'd been known to slack off in the middle of paperwork, and she'd often been needed to get him back on track.

She was not abstracted at work, she was too much of a professional for that. Besides, _this_ was when the state needed her the most, with everything falling apart around their ears.

But for the first time in her life, Riza Hawkeye was aware of an _ache_.

Before, it had been the sweet ache of dreams that were yet to be fulfilled, dreams too precious to be spoken aloud, but _now_…now it was the ache of dreams delayed…perhaps even destroyed.

Did he even think of her anymore?

'Lieutenant Hawkeye!'

She raised her head. It was only the post. She took it from the man with a nod of gratitude, and he saluted before leaving.

It was a plain brown envelope, there was no return address. She turned the envelope over, examining it carefully.

She froze, heart pounding. She recognised that handwriting…

With hands that shook slightly, she ripped the envelope open. The rest of the office had gone still, the men seeming to hold their breaths as if they realised the importance of the situation.

It was single sheet of paper.

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows _

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the _

_bud and the sky of the sky of a _

_tree called life; which grows higher than _

_soul can hope or mind can hide) _

_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart _

_i carry your heart ( i carry it in my heart)_

At the very end, where a signature should be, there was only one word.

_Someday._

'Someday, Roy,' she whispered her vow, feeling her eyes mist over as she traced his bold strokes with her fingertip. 'Someday, our day _will_ come.'

---

End

A/N: The verse is an excerpt from a poem by e.e cummings, and is one of my favourites.

--This fic was inspired by the song by _Michael Learns to Rock_, titled 'Someday'.

--All comments and concrit very welcome. Thank you kindly for reading. :)


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